


Typical Happy Ending

by throed (11dishwashers)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 00:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10933527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11dishwashers/pseuds/throed
Summary: And really, there's a lot to love.





	Typical Happy Ending

One soaked pair of shoes, red umbrella, and a dose of mild embarrassment later, Taeil goes home. Or maybe he finds himself there. 

 

Johnny can cook, and it’s okay sometimes. Not when he gets the pages of the recipe books stuck together, which is almost as much of a pain as when he doesn’t use a recipe at all, like tonight. He’s sitting on the sofa when Taeil walks in, and there’s a paper plate of wedges sitting on his lap. Taeil wrinkles his nose and drops his coat onto the radiator.  The news is on, for whatever reason. (he thinks he knows why)

“You missed it,” Johnny says, tilting his head back so they meet eyes. “The hot weatherman was on tv again.”

Taeil scoffs and crashes next to him, risks stealing a wedge off the plate. It’s almost frozen. Johnny is  _ hopeless.  _

 

When they met, Johnny had spent all his money on a canon and lived off mcdonalds and late nights. He wore ripped jeans and white jumpers that didn’t fit his shoulders right, maybe hung off just a little, maybe intentionally. He was Taeyong’s friend, and then Taeil’s friend, and then a whole lot more.   
Taeil was a weatherman. Is a weatherman. But things are different now.

 

Instead, he’s the one wearing the white jumpers, and they slip over his shoulders so easily. Half the canon’s memory is used on pictures of him eating ice cream, or him standing in the kitchen, just holding a box of detergent. He might not be photogenic, but it’s not so bad.    
Johnny flicks through them before bed sometimes, stumpy fingers clicking the buttons so they make that annoying plastic sound. Occasionally he’ll nudge his shoulder against Taeil’s to show him one- they all blur together. Pictures with Yuta at college football games, of Ten before his first solo performance.    
Then the pictures of Taeil himself, which are always a bit strange to look at, but Johnny’s been thinking about him- he’ll say    
“Look how short you are in this one,” and laugh so his eyes crinkle up. Taeil won’t dignify it with a response most of the time, but when he has the effort to pretend to be pissed off, he’ll elbow Johnny very slightly in the side. Johnny will roll over so his back is the only sight before changing his mind and resting against Taeil again. Sharing a bed is a little bit okay, Taeil thinks.

He gets up in the morning and finds the coffee beans in the overhead shelf, grumbles before trudging back to the bedroom. Johnny’s asleep across the bed in an odd diagonal line. The sheets are twisting around his lanky legs, and it’s stuffy. Taeil opens the window  before nudging Johnny with his knee, who stirs, groans, looks up. His eyes are hazy with sleep, hair everywhere.

“What is it.”

“I can’t reach the coffee beans,” says Taeil matter-of-factly. He wonders if their placement is on purpose. That’d be okay, he supposes. If Johnny wanted to see him in the morning. His voice is thick just when he wakes up, and he’s hugging Taeil from behind when he could just go back to bed. Taeil drops two sugarcubes into his coffee, waits for him to move but it doesn’t happen, sighs. (not with content, mind you) Johnny’s chin is so heavy on his head, why would he want this?   
Well.

“You’re so clingy,” he murmurs, a bit disappointed when Johnny pulls away. 

“Do you mind?”

“No, not really. Come back.”

“Love you.”

 

Taeil is a weatherman at six o'clock and Johnny is an amateur with a canon. According to Taeil, everything’s not so bad, maybe a bit good. According to Johnny, Taeil’s too shy to say he loves it.    
“Too shy? No way, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

_ -fin- _

**Author's Note:**

> im a slave for this ship tbh  
> this gave me a toothache when i wrote it  
> (psst! go follow me on twitter @11dishwashers for writing updates and other dumb stuff)


End file.
